


if on a winter's night, a traveler

by bluecarrot



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, PWP, Soldiers, Winter, blizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8807236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecarrot/pseuds/bluecarrot
Summary: in which smutty words are replaced with dashes, a la true 18th century smut.also, there's some frame story about soldiers trying to find lodging in a blizzard? idk, i was really freaking cold when i wrote this





	

**Author's Note:**

> 12/09/2016.
> 
> my Burr is a Quaker, here -- they used to use "thee" and "thou" in place of the then-more-formal "you", as a way to show equality with all people. (Some still do this.)
> 
> Quakers are often strict pacifists and dissenters, but some feel called to go to war in a just cause.

The travelers were long on a weary road, and when night grew close upon them and the moon rose bright, they were glad indeed to see the form of a building, dark against the darkness.

"Hurry," said Burr. "I mistrust the sky."

"You mistrust too much," said Hamilton: and then they gave off speaking, for the wind rose sharp, and their coats were well-worn, and patched in a soldier's rough style.

The latch-string hung outside the door -- a sign of uninhabitance -- yet Burr made them wait while he knocked, and listened for reply.

"Abandoned," and so it seemed to be; and whosoever left had hurried away, for the light Burr struck showed clear enough that the gun-hooks stood empty above the doorframe, and bedclothes lay rumpled on the mattress, and no more than a few sticks lay in the wood-box.

Hamilton lit the lamp and opened a tin of stew and ate it plain.

"Theft," said Burr.

"God's bounty," said Hamilton, going on unperturbed in his meal, as a soldier will.

"A night's lodging is one thing; food is quite another."

"We might fare further and do worse. You saw the sky, Burr. And the cloud in the north-east."

"All the more reason to save what's here. If a blizzard strikes, we might be trapped for days."

Hamilton looked grim -- despite the cheerful yellow of the kerosene-lamp. "We haven't fuel to last us through days. Might as well go out with a full stomach."

"Thou'rt a sinner to the core," said Burr: but his tone was mild. "Blow out the lamp, then, and come to sleep. Thee needn't roll thy eyes -- we've shared a bed-roll often enough, and this is a bed, at least we're off the ground --"

The ropes holding up the mattress were quite stretched out, and the straw-tick itself smelled musty and foul. 

Hamilton complained.

"Hold thy tongue," said Burr. He promptly fell into the sleep of the just.

Hamilton lay awake. Slowly he crept up his feet (cold even in their stockings) against Burr's warmer legs -- so he was the one to hear when the wind changed from its accustomed whine to a shriek and a clattering howl, as if carrying knives in its voice.

He shut his eyes then and curled nearer. They would go nowhere, now, not for some long time.

What else was there to do in a blizzard but wait?

 

 

He woke -- at what o'clock he did not know; neither had a watch, and the small window showed a world where sun was blotted out by sheets of white.

Burr was shivering.

Hamilton had moved away a little in his sleep; now he shifted closer.

Burr frowned at him. "Behave. Keep thy cold feet away."

"Pride goeth before a fall, Aaron Burr, and I am not too proud to admit my fine uniform is no warmer than a suit of newspaper should be, against this sort of weather." He pressed a hand against Burr's neck to prove the cold.

Burr flinched away. "Stop that!"

"Ah. But you're so warm. Tell me, did you think to keep all that heat for yourself? Do you have no charity for a fellow mortal?"

"If I am warm, it is the righteous comfort of a blameless life," said Burr, smiling a little. "Thy sin will keep thee  warm enough, soon" -- but he did not object again when Hamilton moved nearer.

 

Hamilton woke from a first sleep to the cessation of sound; the winds so long screaming were eerily still.  He lay pressed forward against Burr's backside, slightly curled against him, their skin near together. All the places they touched were warm and all the places they did not touch were cold, and the warmest of all, he noticed with some embarrasment, was his ----, now half ready for a travail though he slept against a man.

Hamilton was not altogether unfamiliar with either the sensation nor its object as one of interest; he had long suspected a partiality in that direction, as the mast points out direction of travel.

He pressed forward a little more, unconscious of the action except as fulfillment of a quiet dream, and was glad and surprised to hear a soft noise, as a moan, and feel the return pressure of a cloven ___ against his outstretched ____.

The scent of Burr, like forest and pine needles, appealed; his warmth called Hamilton to approach; and the silent reassurance it was not entirely unwelcome to Burr let his sleep-addled brain respond with more blood sent downwards.

He would not abuse their uneasy alliance, lately easing towards a strained friendship, nor the trust of one man towards another to respect the unwritten regulations of bed-partners -- he did not move again, after that first; he did not stretch out a hand nor arch and grope for needed friction. Yet desire, once acknowledged, has its own decison and will. Hamilton lay for some time stiff as a board against the pliant straw-tick, listening to the night noises of Burr, who had never seemed quite so sweetly intriguing before, and the interest grew swollen and plump and seemed to beat and quiver with its own awareness, to the pattern of his heart.

Burr shifted and made a motion to turn so Hamilton did as well, pliant in this at least; but he left a lock of hair loose upon the pillow, the close form of Burr lay upon it tightly, and Hamilton flinched, pulling away with a hiss.

"S'rry," mumbled Burr.

"S'fine," said Hamilton, in the same tones; he made to turn over himself and his thigh, so close to Burr's thigh, brushed evidence of more common sympathy than had existed between them. Burr made a hiss of his own, but neither moved nor spoke, and Hamilton lay still on his back, fearful either to move again or not to move; he felt this was not his decision to make.

Burr's hand moved across Hamilton's chest, apparently seeking warmth, and brushed a painfully erect ______. Hamilton woud have been ashamed of the noise he made, as it was more of a whimper than a proper ejaculation due to a soldier, were it not for the sudden shift and tension in Burr's body still so near, so near.

Still he did not move closer. Only slowly his  finger returned to the sensitive spot and flickered over it again, apparently seeking that same sigh, which Hamilton was amply prepared to evince. He attempted however to remain still yet his hips  _would_ flex.  And now a broad flat thumb was added to the forefinger, and Burr could pinch the ______, and did so. 

It was the most teasing gesture imaginable, and it overcame Hamilton entirely. He rolled over the other man and settled their ____ together, a delicious giddy pressure; he shut off the quick huffing laugh or complaint that Burr made with his own mouth. 

Soon enough regret or fear took him over, as desire had a moment before; he drew away with an excuse.

"Hold thy tongue," said Burr.

Hamilton flamed red, aggrieved. "I  _apologized_ \--"

"Thee is still _talking_ ," said Burr, and he shifted upwards to pull them together again, lathing his tongue across the seam of Hamilton's lips and kissing away the gasp, biting down a little on his lip, letting his hands wander down over woven and knitted wool layers, asking "is this all right," and "this?" although the answer was always _Yes or_   _More_  or  _Please_.

Experimentation took some time and they lingered in it; soon enough they were beautifully warmed by each other, and then first one and then the other stripped to the skin. Hamilton gratefully received pleasure; he had his first sight, his first taste, and was not disappointed in the real experience of what he had so often imagined.  

"What does thee want? What should I do?"

"I want your hand on my ____," he said.

Burr laughed: in compliment or retribution, he gripped and stroked from the base. "Thee says that, -- hold _still,_ \-- thee says so quite directly, yet it took all this time, and this night, and a blizzard."

"You're still talking," said Hamilton, in an agony. "It's _distracting_."

Burr moved more slowly. "What would thee like better?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I want. That is, I know well enough what I _want._ It's words I lack."

"Thee needs _words?_ "

"I _need_ words. I need to tell you what to do, I need to tell you what I want to do -- yes. There," and he shivered, he clutched on to Burr's hand as it touched him. "There. Please. I need to tell you. I need to tell you I want to touch you."

Burr's eyelids dropped down heavy. "Would I say no?"

"You might." He wasn't afraid anymore, not really, but what he was embarrassed at himself -- at his own desire -- at the humiliation of creating language, as if it were the same as creating a world. If there were words, he might not be an aberration. If he had words ... "I would like to ... I want you to spread your ____." His cheeks flushed red. "If you want."

A slow laugh -- it seemed to catch in Burr's throat, and he obeyed, saying: "Art thou blushing now, Alexander?"

" _Alexander,_ huh."

"It suits thee, I think. It -- it --" Burr stuttered; Hamilton was passing a long slow trailing finger down his waist, now exposed to the grey light and to the heat between their bodies. "Sweet Jesus, thy hand is cold."

"My tongue is warmer." And he bent his mouth to taste the curve of Burr's ___, and was duly rewarded by another shiver. "Aaron. Do you worry about these things, about you and me, about doing this with me? Do you worry about God, or ..."

"Thou'rt afraid of hell?"

"No. I don't know. I just ... you tease me so much about sin ..."

"God is larger than thee or me, Hamilton. And if this is a sin, it's a little one among many others in my life. Oh. _Oh_. What are you -- "

"Do you like it? I had an idea. Something I thought to try." He licked slow and rubbed in the spittle, keeping his other hand splayed flat on Burr's breastbone. "I'm going to press in my ____ and you must tell me _yay_ or _no._ "

"I'll tell thee nay quick enough, if -- _Alexander._ "

"Does that suit you?"

" _Thee_ suits me."

"You never said."

"Thee didn't ask!"

Instead of arguing, Hamilton bit the curve of Burr's neck, arched out long and yearning. "I like you here. I like this," and he went on pressing in his _______ and drawing them back a bit, trying to match the motions to the jagged breathing beneath him, to Burr's hands clenching at him, nails digging into his ____ to pull him deeper. The muscles relaxed; a soft magenta rose on Burr's cheeks. He kissed that cheek. "Do you want more?"

No answer.

"Aaron, you have to answer. Or I'll do what I want."

A snort.

"You are so frustrating," and he pressed in another. Burr flinched; Hamilton paused, waited waited waited; he tried again. "Is that --"

"Yes."

"You didn't even let me finish," Hamilton said, bemused, falling a little in love with the response on Burr's face, the way his mouth twitched at the corners, how his eyes fluttered and shut --

"The answer's yes. The answer's always yes. Oh.  _Oh_ \--"

"That's a yes?"

"Wretch," and Burr pulled his face down. "Thou miserable wreck of a man. But I want to touch thee, Alex. I want my hands on your skin."

"Are your hands cold? I don't want you to touch me if your hands are cold."

" _Alexander_ ," and he arched his back as Hamilton curved his fingers, and he clutched Hamilton's hips through his shirt; he made a noise very much like a whine. "Alexander, _please._ "

Hamilton was finding it difficult to go on speaking lightly. He kissed him again, his hair falling down to curtain their faces. How long had he known this man? How long had he wanted him? "I want to put my ____ in you," he said; he wiggled his _______ as he spoke, and Burr moved again, and his voice came out more roughly, more honestly than he'd intended. "I want that -- I want that so much. May I do that? Would you want that?"

Burr pushed Hamilton away with a sudden motion. "Let me taste thee."

"You're not serious?"

Burr was serious. He went at it with a straightforwardness that Hamilton recognized from other activities -- setting out tent-poles, maybe; or arguing a point of compassion. The formalized language had put him off for a while, it seemed like affect, but Burr was --

\-- moving his tongue on his ____, is what Burr was doing, and he hadn't expected this or dreamt of it in his wildest fantasies; the most he'd ever thought was to drop to his own knees before Burr, pleading with hands and eyes and mouth, and maybe he'd do that later too? It didn't seem fair that only one of them got to --

"Ahh. Alright. That's enough. That's quite enough." But it took him a moment to move and Burr kept at it, ignoring him, still licking up the underside with that gorgeous, glorious confidence that made it even better somehow. But Hamilton was laughing. "Please stop. Or I won't be able to --"

Obedient Burr lifted off. "Thy arguments are so unsorted. If thee'd begin with that ..."

"Oh, shut up. Move a bit." And he settled back between Burr's legs, touching his own ____ first for the _______ that had gathered thick and white at the ____, reaching down to rub it on Burr's ____ and press inside, slowly, shutting his eyes when Burr shut his own, holding on to each other.

"Beautiful," kissing his face and neck and mouth. "Beautiful. I didn't know."

"Quiet. Please? I want to hear, I want to hear ..." 

\-- the tiny movement of skin on skin, the intake of breath as they moved together just the right way, the spreading and settling together. "Jesus fuck." 

"Blasphemer." Soft laughter. "A beautiful one. I didn't know ..." And he found himself moving erratically, biting more than he ought to do, he couldn't help it, Burr was so sweet beneath him and he reached down to grip Burr's ____ and almost as soon as he touched, he was gone, his mind going hard and silent like he was falling, like the world was all darkness, and Burr the only solid thing in the universe.

 

"Did thee ever think about this before?"

They cleaned up as best as they could, using the little snow come in at the door when they came inside; an invigorating sort of bath, as it was too cold for it to melt inside the cabin. Hamilton was not ashamed of the noise he made when Burr rubbed it on his ____, nor did he regret his quick retaliation.

Now satiated and sleepy, they crawled back beneath the covers, laced together this time, and his feet were cold again because every time he tried to put them against Burr he was smacked away.

Hamilton yawned. "I've thought about this every day since I met you."

"No. No?"

"Yes. Aaron, I --"

"We will talk," said Burr, "in the morning. After we sleep. And if thy damned cold feet go on me again, I will push you out and let you freeze." And he promptly dropped off again.

But Hamilton warmed his feet (and his hands) against that body: and who was be the wiser?

 

**Author's Note:**

> @littledeconstruction on the glittery cesspool that is tumblr.


End file.
